The Essence of Gliding

ImageThe feel of the cool air blowing on my face always gave me a burst of energy. It was time to skate. Lacing up my boots, double knotting them to ensure it holds, I begin to stand. A little knee-bend creates that lovely pressure around the ankles and base of the calf. A deeper knee-bend cracks the knees and stretches the calf and thigh muscles. Warmth flows through the body as the blood begins to pump. Swinging arms, bending at the waist, and upper body stretches. A neck crack each direction. It’s time.

The silver blades touch the smooth ice and I push off. Each stroke I make sends me further across the glassy surface and faster into the cool wind. As I round the corners, my knees bend more and my strokes dig into the ice making a slick soft crunch as my blades carve and anchor me for the next push. The speed is exhilarating. I feel like I am flying, my arms the graceful wings of an eagle, and my legs the intense power of a jet engine. As I sail across the ice rink in simple movements, my heart continues to soar with the love of life, the voice of poetry dancing with each twist and turn. It is through this simple act of figure skating that I speak my true self. It is within the walls of this building that I am most free. I am powerful, unstoppable, and unbound.

I am, and always will be, that irrepressible skater. The skates hung on the wall will not hold back the skater that still glides within me. It is a grace that moves me from within, finding moments to slip through in my dreams, in my thoughts, in my written words. It is a love so pure that very little can touch. It is the essence of me. It is me.

And it is passionately written…

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The Simple Pleasures of Cats and Books

A moment of peace is to lay leisurely upon the sofa, with the weight of a newly cracked-open book within your hands, and a softly-purring cat resting at your feet. Those are the sweet calming things I like to dream about before reality hits me like a ton of furry bricks, running straight towards my knees at race-car speed. There goes the book, flying five feet into the air in an awkward and opposite direction of my well-wrinkled bookmark. Of course I didn’t look at what page I was on; I was in my relaxed “Happy Place” until Attila the cat decided to play footsies at a most inopportune time.

As I bend down to get my much-needed bookmark, not that there aren’t twenty more just like it in the desk to my right, I find that the afore-mentioned cat seems to think it is time to play tug-of-war with it and put a big bite-mark in the end. This takes all my attention to get the bookmark back from the jaws of death, only to be used as a leaping pad for my daughter’s cat, a beautiful dark calico cat that seems to have eaten her weight to top fat kitty on the block. That’s okay – I didn’t really need that part of my spine anyways.

Finally, giving up on my dream of relaxing on my couch, which is situated in Hell Kitty Headquarters apparently, I limp and drag my mutilated body towards my sanctuary. I hear angels singing and see a spotlight from Heaven shining upon my glorious queen-sized bed. I turn back the covers, adjust the cool pillows, and stretch out my sore muscles. Pick up the beloved book, take a deep breath in, and bam-boom-yowza, my football-shaped cat lands on my stomach and crushes my innards into what used to be my back. How could I forget about Hell-cat number three? And where in heck did my darn book go this time?

After I shift my deformed body into a Hunchback of Notre Dame standing position, muttering about my daughter’s incest laughter at my horrific nightly episode, I pick up my now wrinkly book, drag what’s left of my squished jellified body into the bathroom for some alone reading time. But no, there are three cats scratching at the door and a tween that just won’t stop laughing at my expense. So what is a woman to do?

I drag my sorry butt back into that bedroom, scrunch myself under the covers, and mutter threats about kitty-cat stew and feline breakfast surprise recipes until I fall fitfully into the dark slumber of sleep. Upon waking up, I pat my three cats on the heads, kiss my child on the forehead, and continue in my sweet bliss until the next fit of fur starts flying. I can’t help it…I must love my life to go through this escapade each night. I wouldn’t have it any other way.

It is passionately written…